Endings
by IchigoAisukuriimu
Summary: When Yuki is injured and unable to type, how is he going to finish his latest book in time to meet the deadline?


Author's Note: A birthday happens only once a year.  Whenever it does occur, it is a special event.

With that said, this fic is dedicated to:

'Rene-chan, who gave me Gravitation: See? I did post it on time…and without a placeholder. Happy Birthday. Enjoy.

~*~

"You shouldn't type anymore if you want to save your wrist."

It wasn't every day that your doctor told you that your way of life was about to be changed drastically.  It only happened to those people who engaged in risk-taking behavior, such as skydiving, scuba diving in shark-infested waters, or falling in love. It wasn't as if it most people engaged in the risk-taking that would result in such an announcement.  Yuki Eiri, romance novelist extraordinaire, knew that, and as he did not engage in anything that in the slightest way resembled or even deserved the term "risky" (unless you counted Shuichi), he was surprised.  "What are you talking about?"

"You sprained your wrist a few months ago.  Severely, if I recall correctly." 

Yuki remembered that incident.  Shuichi had convinced him to get on a bike, on the grounds that it was 'more fun' than riding in a car all the time.  He hadn't ridden a bike in years, but then, since 'you never forget how to ride a bike,' he didn't expect anything serious to happen.  He had taken into account the fact that he was with a certain loud, hyperactive, pink-haired idiot.  Not that either of them had forgotten.  No.  It was actually because some other idiot had swerved to avoid a squirrel and crashed into _his_ idiot.  He had been a few meters behind and would have escaped unscathed but for the fact that his brain had chosen that exact moment to 'forget' how to brake.  So much for never forgetting.

There wasn't much left of the squirrel.  The only other evidences of the incident were several lines in a medical file and two splints for two sprained wrists.  (The bruises on his other hand from punching the cause of the accident, who had managed to survive with no injuries, unfortunately for him, in the face had disappeared a while ago.)

"And you continued writing both during and after that, didn't you?"

He nodded.  

Writing, typing, ranting.  Whatever you wanted to call the actions of his overactive neurons set to paper and published (hardcover and paperback), that's what he'd done, over Shuichi's strenuous objections.  He'd gotten a rather tidy sum from that as well.

"Well, the constant, repetitive movement from typing aggravated your wrist.  If it wasn't already sprained, it may have been fine; as it is…"  Her voice trailed off.

Yuki blinked at the woman in the lab coat.  He had visited the doctor at Shuichi's behest after constant complaints that his wrist had been bothering him.  It wasn't as if he'd thought he'd needed to go.  "Are you trying to tell me…"

"You shouldn't type any more until your wrist has had time to heal again.  I can prescribe painkillers, but that's it.  You're going to have to wait for those bones and ligaments to heal again; there's nothing more I can do."  Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she continued. "Any more typing or writing and your wrist could take months to heal."  

Then, overriding his objections, she had shoved a piece of paper into his hand (the one that wasn't hurting) and escorted him firmly out the door.

~*~

"YUKI!  You're home!"  

Quickly sidestepping the large violent pink whirlwind headed in his direction (causing it to crash to a wall), he resumed the vital task of taking off his jacket and changing his outdoor shoes for slippers.  He shuffled his way to his office and opened the door, instinctively making his way towards his laptop, which was blinking invitingly at him from its accustomed position at his desk.  Sitting down, the doctor's parting words shelved and nearly forgotten in the very back of his mind, he settled down and prepared to type.

A warning twinge from his wrist forced him to stop.  He glared at the offending appendage, as if it wasn't his own fault that he was now being kept from typing.  Finding it boring to stare at something connected to his person, he turned his glare to the screen, which flashed tauntingly at him, the cursor still at the point where he had left off.

_"'Will I ever…'"_

Blink. Blink. Blink. 

Yuki glowered at the screen; the screen simply glowed serenely, as if nothing was going to bother it.  Which nothing would.  

It was clearly a battle neither was going to win.

His sensitive ears picked up a faint knocking at the door.  Shuichi.  This was not because he had any extrasensory perception or had memorized his lover's characteristic knocks. His ears, albeit sensitive in more ways than one, had not picked up any subtle, near-inaudible trademarks of Shuichi (partly because Shuichi was in no way subtle and not even _close_ to inaudible) such as his footsteps or breathing.  Instead, his brilliant deduction had been made because Shuichi was the only one who could possibly be in the house, since he had confiscated Tatsuha's key, Tohma's key card, Ryuichi's lock picks and had all the locks in the house changed twice for safety's sake.  He was now ensconced, at the risk of being called paranoid, rather safely behind an electronically protected front door, and the two locks in his inner door.  So, unless Tohma had been blackmailing Shuichi again, the person at the door could only _be_ Shuichi.

Unfortunately, he was one of the people on the list of those-that-Yuki-did-not-want-to-see-right-now.  Which was a list that currently contained just about everyone from his editor to the long-dead emperors of Japan.

The knocking continued, crescendoing until it became impossible to ignore.  'Well, he'll have to find out sooner or later.'  

Sighing resignedly, he got up to open the door he usually kept barred, hoping against hope that Shuichi would take it well and not overreact. 

~*~

"WAH!  YukiYukiYuki!  Why didn't you tell me?  Are you going to die?  Will you be okay?  Don't worry about anything!  I'll take care of it, I promise!  Will your wrist heal soon?  What are you going to do until then?  Is there anything I can do to help?"

Sighing again, Yuki counted to ten to keep from answering.  So much for not overreacting.  This was worse than the time he'd twisted his ankle, worse than the time he'd cut himself while cooking, and much worse than the time he'd burned himself while pouring coffee.  This was going to be murder.

"I can do laundry and clean and organize and I'll even help cook if you need me to…"

Seeing as there was a perfectly good phone for ordering take-out, Yuki doubted that would happen.  Stoves tended to spontaneously combust when Shuichi went near them.  He hadn't forgotten the small gas fire of two months ago.  Shuichi had been forbidden to even enter the kitchen for a week after that.  It had taken one fire extinguisher, several wet towels, and a small contingent of fire fighters – who had been more interested in being inside of Yuki Eiri's house than putting out the fire – to get out of that one.  

They had also gotten several lessons out of that one.  Never, for any reason, allow Shuichi pour water on a gas fire.  Never, for that reason, allow Shuichi anywhere near a gas stove.  And always order take-out.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?  I think that the best thing to do would be for you to stay in bed and…"

Yuki couldn't stand it anymore.  Seizing on the only method to shut up Shuichi that he felt up to attempting at the moment, not to mention the one he enjoyed the most, he kissed him.  Shuichi's eyes went wide, his customary first reaction, and then he kissed back.

~*~

About an hour later, completely spent, Yuki lay awake thinking.  Shuichi was snuggled up next to him, covered in a light sheet, breathing softly.  He removed his arm from around Shuichi's shoulders and tucked both hands under his head, propping them up, his elbows bent at an angle.  Gleaming softly from the ceiling were the variously colored, and inarguably childish glow-in-the-dark stars that Shuichi insisted on decorating the room with.  Yuki had meant to take them down; he'd just never gotten around to it.  Unfortunately, he had gotten used to them after a while, and even slightly fond of them, something he'd never admit to Shuichi. 

So the stars stayed, more testimony to the changes that Shuichi had made.

'…she turned and ran.  Never look back. Never stop and turn around. Those few seconds could be all they needed to catch up and then what would happen?  She couldn't keep running forever however, and they knew that, those people following her at a mocking and leisurely pace so as not to attract the wide-mouthed attention of those around her.  Who was going to help her?'

"Who's going to help _me_?" He asked a particularly large pink-colored star directly above his head.  The story wouldn't leave him alone; every nuance of plot spun around and around in his brain, refusing to let him rest.  Turning over on his side, he rested his hands on top of the sheet.  They twitched for a moment, instinctively typing out a sentence on the bedspread before his wrist twinged again.

"Help you with what, Yuki?"

Ignoring the sleep-muffled voice of the pink-haired boy beside him, he turned his attention back to the star he'd been addressing.  He considered employing a secretary of some sort, but the idea of a stranger typing out the ravings of his admittedly disturbed and dangerous mind was, strangely, unappealing to him.  He thought about installing some sort of voice-activated device into the laptop, but the advantage would be greatly reduced whenever the device made a mistake, which meant that he would have to correct it manually, leading to more pain.

"Yuki?"

Where could he find someone that he could trust to type up what he said, understood him, and wouldn't be constantly intruding into his daily routine?

"Yuki?"

"How would you like to help me type up my book until my wrist heals?"

~*~

Shuichi flexed his fingers and blinked at the laptop facing him, the light from the screen harshly glaring into his eyes.  Before the accident, he had never been allowed to touch it; Yuki had always been afraid that he would ruin something.  Even now, Yuki was watching him from the bed (they had chosen to move to the bedroom since there was a desk and it was more comfortable there) making sure that he didn't do anything that would accidentally wipe out the hard drive and dictating the story to him.   

"Are you ready to continue?"  

He nodded and poised his fingers over the keyboard.  Spending time in the computer lab at the high school had been a _good_ idea.  Yuki had been gratifyingly surprised at how fast he could type; it wasn't often that he could surprise his more experienced lover.  The thrill of his approval had kept Shuichi going.

That had been five chapters, one-hundred-eighty-seven pages, and exactly two and a half love scenes ago (in real time, it was approximately fifteen hours), and both Shuichi and Yuki were getting tired.  The book was nearing the ending already.  The heroine had just been kidnapped by the psychotic members of the gang that her love interest had belonged to.

"'…Was what they said true?  Had he really abandoned her and encouraged them to kidnap and kill her…'"

"Yuki?"  Shuichi asked suddenly, a thought striking him.

The other yawned before answering.  "…Hai?"

"How are you going to end the story?"

Yuki simply looked at him.

"Do you want the ending to be happy or sad?"  Shuichi persisted.

Blinking sleepily up at him, Yuki shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I'm too tired to think about it right now.  Let's sleep…" he yawned again, "…for now?"  He took his own advice and was completely asleep soon after.

Shuichi covered Yuki with the blanket and turned back to the abandoned laptop.  

'He seems so tired…is it because he's not used to having to verbalize his ideas before they're put into print or is his wrist taking more out of him than he's telling me?  I wish I could take some of the burden off…'

He was suddenly seized with an idea; without even stopping to think, he immediately put it into action while Yuki slept on.

'Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.  Whoever it was paused dramatically, whether consciously or not, she couldn't tell.  He used to stand like that whenever…'

~*~

Yuki awoke refreshed and ready to continue writing.  

'It's amazing what a nap can do for you…' he trailed off as he caught sight of Shuichi sleeping by the laptop.  He smiled slightly, picked him up and carried him to the bed.  Leaving a kiss on his forehead and nose, he sat at the desk where the laptop was.

'…Had he really abandoned her and encouraged them to kidnap and kill her?  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.  Whoever it was paused…'

'When did I write this?  Could he have…' He glanced at Shuichi, who was snoring softly on the bed.  Looking back to the laptop, he finished reading the pages.  Shuichi had taken the liberty of completing the entire book!  The hero _had_ come to rescue the heroine, saving Yuki the trouble of coming up with a new, creative way for her to die.  'This isn't half bad…for a beginner.'  Editing the ending slightly took some time, but he had no problems with it.  He saved it to a disk.

'This is going to confuse my editor so much.'  Yuki thought amusedly as he sealed the envelope and dropped it off in the mailbox.

~*~Owari~*~

A/N: That's it for now.  In hopes of getting it up in time, I've stopped the story there.  There may be an edit in the future with reactions in it, but for now…

Happy Birthday Irene! I told you I'd get it up on time!


End file.
